BY : Chriscent
Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1756
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Title: Subsequential
Author: Chriscent
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Disclaimer: I don't own Dom or any of the team.
Archives: Ask.
Feedback: Love the stuff. I take criticism VERY well, so let me hear what you have to say.
Notes: I don't write het much these days, so keep that in mind during the sex scenes. Also, my characterization of Dom is off a bit, at least to me, but I couldn't stop writing. If anything sounds too freaky let me know.

Chapter 1

“His wife has asked for us to end in scripture. Let us bow our heads.”

Long seconds filled with only the sound of the never-ending wind. Now the shuffling of movement as those present obeyed.

“The Lord is the eternal God, creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint nor grow weary, and his knowledge is beyond scrutiny. He gives strength to the fainting, for the weak he makes vigor abound. Though young men faint and grow weary, and youths stagger and fall, they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles’ wings; they will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint. Isaiah 40:28-31.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6.”

Soft crying could be heard as the pastor took a breath.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; they rod and they staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever. Amen.”

The shuffling again as the mourners raised their heads, blinking in the bright sun.

“There will be refreshments at the rectory of the Victory Baptist church, all and their families are welcome.”

The words of sympathy started again. Faces that she didn’t care to recognize, words that she didn’t care to truly listen to or even believe, hands that she didn’t like gripping hers. Finally they were all gone, the procession of darkly dressed people moving to their cars. Doors slamming, engines starting.

A hand at her elbow. “Carra, are you ready?”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the gleaming box before her. “I’m not leaving.”

The hand left her elbow. Whispers behind her, she didn’t bother to listen. Minutes passed. Carra’s only movement was the methodical lift of her arm to dab away the continuously flowing tears.

Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see two men dressed in dirty pants holding shovels. It was like a fist to her stomach, and her heart. He was gone!

She fell to her knees, the ground cold, the metal holding the casket even colder as she reached out and gripped it. “How could he leave me?”

Hands again, these stronger, and persistent. “Where’s that strength?” The voice recognizable.

Carra collapsed against him, no thought to it. The weeks in the hospital she'd watched her husband hang on, never letting her own weakness show. “It was for him. It was all for him. But now…” She sobbed, unable not to. In her mind she kept seeing his face, smiling, serious, always with that sly glint to his eye.

The folding chairs were still in rows and she was directed to sit. His arm stayed around her, allowing her to lean, or forcing it. Either way, she was leaning on him, his body turned to her.

“I don’t know what to say.”

She sucked in air, feeling the beginnings of hyperventilation starting as she cried all the harder now. “I don’t.” Gasp for air. “Want words.” Gasp for air. “I-I.” Gasp for air. “Want him.”

Long silence. Her continued inability to breath made even crying difficult. The wet patch on his suit coat embarrassed her even further and she pulled away from him. Staring at her hands in her lap, she concentrated on her breathing, trying to relax.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered, not really to him.

“Ain’t supposed to be. Not happy how this happened.” He huffed a breath. “Hate it like hell, but I can’t change it.” He was silent for a second, and even without seeing him she got the distinct impression he was looking at her. “You can stand up and walk away from here, or you can stay here with him. Either way doesn’t change how much he loved you. Or even how much you still love him.”

The tears started falling again, silent now, as she remembered to continue breathing through the tears. It hurt so much. She knew he was right, but walking away felt like acceptance. Even thinking about it hurt, actually doing it might just kill her.

But waiting wouldn’t make it easier.

She stood and leaned over the casket, above where his head would be forever inside. It was sleek and black and warm from the sun. White roses lay over the divide of the closure. So uncharacteristic. She’d never even seen him with a rose, before today. Put a custom paint job on this thing and a sound system and he’d be more at home.

“I love you, baby,” she whispered as she pulled back.

She stood for a second longer. Those two men still at the edge of her sight, their nasty shovels ready to bury another husband, another lover, another friend. She refused to look at them.

A lone car sat in the little lane through the cemetery, her driver waiting, eternally patient. Her heel slipped into the soft ground and she stumbled, righting herself in an instant, but still a hand came up to help. He didn’t immediately release her and she shook his hand off. “I’m fine.”

His hands did a small placating gesture but he didn’t say anything.

Carra was more careful as she walked to her car. Her driver had the door open and waiting, but she didn’t get in. She turned back, looking up the small rise to the gravesite. The two men hadn’t moved, waiting for her to leave most likely. But as she stood and waited she saw that they spoke to each other and then looked back at her.

“Carra.” It was him, already in the car, his own gone now. But still she waited, watching, hurting.

Finally the men moved. One went to either end of the casket and pulled back the grass-looking carpet that had been placed there to hide the ugliness of the truth. Fresh dirt. The carpets were cast aside, and then one of them bent and began cranking on the small handle. Instantly the casket started sinking.

Carra caught her breath, but continued to watch. Down through the polished metal that held it, and down into the dark hole waiting for it. He’d spend eternity, and her beside him, in the end. That comforted her some. Despite him leaving her in this life she’d see him in the next.

She got in the car and let the driver close the door. A second later he was dropping the dark glass that separated them. “To the church then?”

She didn’t want to. All those people, all those looks. But she couldn’t not go. “Yes,” she said on a sigh and then leaned her head back, eyes closed.

“You don’t have to go.”

Carra lifted her head. She’d almost forgotten she had a passenger. How lax of her. “I should. They came for me, right?” she asked, her smile showing that she didn’t think that in the least.

“Or for the reading of the will,” he grumbled.

She laughed! Outright laughter, probably for the first time in a month. A month of hospitals, doctors, excuses, fast-food meals, and then condolences. “Are you serious?” she asked, still grinning, mostly at the aggravated look on his face.

The church was only a mile or so from the cemetery, and they were pulling in already.

“You should have been around more, Dom.”

She saw the scowl on his face, probably at her laughing at him, the truth in what she said, and his knowing she knew more about someone that he’d called a friend.

The door opened and she got out, not bothering to check to see if he followed.

It was easier now. She couldn’t explain why, but now she felt like she was the one easing the minds of the doting mourners. ‘Yes, she would be fine.’, ‘No, she didn’t need anything.’, ‘Yes, it had been a beautiful service.’, ‘Yes, thank you for coming.’ And good fucking riddance!

She stood alone in the space between two tables. One for his family, one for hers. His parents had barely spoken to her, and hers had given the normal words of sympathy. They'd never approved of anything she'd done, her choice of husband had been no different.

Money donated to the church had paid for the meal and made it go smoothly. Mia was supportive, though she knew the girl was just stepping up out of necessity. It had been her at the gravesite, and then she'd left her brother to come here and do what she could.

It wasn't the type of dinner where everyone sat at once, dozens came and went. Carra stood through the dinner. The food wasn't for her.

Dom had come inside. He sat with his team, or at least what was left of it. They had dressed for the occasion, but still looked completely out of place. Only Dom could clean up well enough to fit in, while Vince looked hungover, and Letty looked ready for a street corner.

Mia was nearby and saw the direction of her gaze, “They wanted to be here for you.”

Carra smiled, not believing it. “It’s okay.” After a second she spoke again, changing the subject, “I was wondering if you could stay with me tonight, Mia”

The girl looked ready to cry at the reason behind the invitation. “Yes. Of course I will.”

Carra nodded, feeling relieved on that front at least. The house had just been a little more imposing without him in it.


“None of them know anything about me, do they?”

Mia was snacking off a tray of veggies on the table before the couch. Carra had had some and just wasn’t in the mood to munch.

“It’s been three years, Carra.”

She dismissed that excuse with a wave of her hand. “But he came over sometimes, right? Wasn’t he telling them anything?”

The girl was thoughtful for a minute. “I think he tried at the beginning. But when no one listened, he kinda gave up. And then I think he was hurt. He hadn’t been there in months before this.”

Carra chewed her lip at that. “You mean Dom didn’t want to listen to any of it,” she corrected.

Mia didn’t bother to correct that assumption.

“He didn’t know Leon as well as he thought he did. Likes to pretend that he’s all-knowing and king of his domain or whatever. Thinks he’s coming across as an all around good guy, don’t he?”

They were silent for long minutes and Carra almost felt regret. Yeah, Leon had been Mia’s friend, but Dom was her brother. She wasn’t going to join her in ranking the guy, no matter if he deserved it or not.

“Leon made his own decisions, Carra,” Mia finally said softly.

Carra nodded, “Yeah, he did. But who do you think was at the root of all his indecisiveness? Dom said ‘jump’, he jumped. He wouldn’t admit to it, and tried to deny it, but it hurt him to have Dom abandon him.”

“Dom did not abandon him. He stopped coming around.”

She smiled, “And that was all my fault.” She played with the tassel on the pillow for a second. “I only know what I know.” She shrugged and stood. “I know Leon was never happy with the way things worked out. If it was all on him I think he'd have done something about it.”

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story